


It's not about Emotion

by Seajellybaby



Category: As the World Turns
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-30
Updated: 2020-01-30
Packaged: 2021-02-27 12:01:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22476811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Seajellybaby/pseuds/Seajellybaby
Summary: One-shot Neid written from Reid's perspective.This was written for my lovely friends who have a Neid obsession.
Relationships: Noah Mayer/Reid Oliver





	It's not about Emotion

This isn’t anything to do with emotion. Or any of that lovey-dovey bullshit people sprout or profess in heart-shaped greeting cards.

Reid Oliver doesn't do emotion. Only practicality.

He watches Noah sleep; the sleeper’s breathing like a perfectly ticking metronome; in and out, in and out…

This isn't how the evening was supposed to go.

It isn’t.

When Noah said the plumbing in the kitchen of his newly rented shit-hole was faulty, Reid offered to help fix it.

Because that was what he was good at.

Fixing things.

He just didn’t consider that a doctorate in brain surgery would in no way guarantee he’d be just as good at household DIY.

“Don’t worry about it,” Noah had said through a mouthful of chuckles; Reid standing there in a shower of water with some tool he couldn’t name held loosely in his hand. “We can’t all be plumbers.”

Noah had gotten wet too. Hot wet. Like something delicious waiting to be eaten.

Reid shifts in the creaky old chair as his groin pulses in appreciative memory.

He focuses once more on the sleeping Noah; breathing in and out, in and out…

Reid’s visit was only to fix the pipes.

It was!

Sure, maybe he did pay Noah more care than he had any of his other surgery patients. But it was only because Noah was so…

… special.

He recalled the desperation on Luke’s face. Noah’s boyfriend grasping at any which way to ensure Reid help Noah regain his eyesight. As if Noah was everything.

He’d felt scorn and disgust at the blonde’s pathetic behavior then. But now… now Reid shivers.

And Noah just breathes; in and out, in and out…

The battered old heating system groans and vibrates somewhere within the apartment, and Reid wonders when it will finally break down so he’ll have another excuse to fix something, even though he can't.

He wonders what Noah will say; how he will feel; when he wakes up and realizes what they’ve done; to Luke, to themselves, to the universe.

Shit.

Reid Oliver doesn't care. None of it matters. This isn't about emotion.

It isn't.

He had an itch. He scratched it. Finished.

His eyes wonder over Noah’s sleeping form; stretched out naked on the bed like a male lion in a classic pose of relaxation. At his current angle, Reid can just make out one of Noah’s thickly arched brows, his chin; his black wavy hair.

Noah breathes; in and out, in and out…

Reid isn’t sure when things changed. Noah had simply turned to him one day, unseeing eyes trusting Reid to make things right again. At that moment Reid thought Noah the most beautiful man he’d ever seen in his life. Perfect, pale skin that stayed that shade no matter the weather; rich red lips, brilliant blue eyes and dark hair. Noah gave off a radiant glow; even sick, angry and sad as he was.

When Noah cried he looked like an angel.

And Noah wasn’t a bastard or stupid either.

Reid felt sure no man was this perfect. He went out of his way to prove to Luke how flawed Noah was. He searched Noah for any fault.

If Noah wasn’t a bastard than he had to be stupid. But Noah wasn’t.

If he wasn’t stupid he had to be autistic, schizophrenic, have multiple personalities. Noah must have incontinence, or he farted and picked his nose in public.

Something!

Anything!

But Noah didn’t.

Reid traces Noah’s jawline with his thumb.

Noah breathes; in and out, in and out…

Noah is perfect.

Reid hates him.

He does.

The hand that has been tracing Noah’s jaw runs down his long neck. Reid’s hand spans its width. Reid wants to squeeze; to strangle him; bruise that perfect skin. Make him un-perfect.

Then maybe Reid will be free.

Even the timing of Noah’s breathing is perfectly regular; in and out, in and out…

The morning light starts to drift in through the flimsy blue curtains Noah has temporarily hung in the tiny room. Shadows begin to play and dance on the muscles under Noah’s skin.

Reid swallows.

This can't be about emotion.

It can't.

Reid Oliver doesn't do emotion.

Noah stirs, opens a perfect blue eye and notices Reid. He smiles and slurs a groggy, “Hey.”

Reid doesn’t answer him.

Noah doesn’t mean anything.

He doesn’t.


End file.
